


For the Honour of Sparta

by SebElessar



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed: Odyssey - Fandom, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Gen, Other, magical girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebElessar/pseuds/SebElessar
Summary: A witness describes Kassandra as she calls on the power inside the spear of Leonidas and dismantle the Athenian phalanx at Amphipolis.





	For the Honour of Sparta

**Author's Note:**

> What I've mentioned of wine and medicine is all true as far as I can tell. Where history and the game disagree, I've leaned on somewhere in the middle, using history to flesh out the game's depiction of events.

Statement of Sakis of Pirates, Polemarch under Kleon of Athens, deserter of the battle of Amphipolis  
-

I was never a fighter, anyone would say so. My time as a hoplite was a disappointment to my ancestors that fought so valiantly securing the freedom of the Greeks and even ousting the Persians at Platea. Instead my mind wandered to philosophy. And our family’s wealth secured my interest in the arts of thought and words. And there I lingered. Many of you have seen me pulling my hair out by the roots after many a foolish attempt at making sense of Sokrates inane questions from the agora to the akropolis. 

Once this conflict started I voted to march. And so I took my father’s spear and helmet and were stationed as polemarch north of Marathon. I realized when leading that group that while fighting in the phalanx was not my cup of wine, leading was. The blood red in my cup of battle was mixed with the water of clarity of thought. Strategy, rather than the beat of the shield wall. We held our own at our station, but never saw real action. But that was while Perakles was in charge.

It was a surprise when we were called upon to aid in the battle of Pylos. Kleon was calling down all the available units to a small port at the very west of Peloponnesia. I saw first hand, in the center of our formation, how our phalanx assaulted the unit Brasidas of Sparta commanded. We moved in and I saw their general fall to a powerful misthios on our side, but were pulled out by his soldiers before the killing blow were struck. The spartans had a misthios of their own, and she engaged Deimos or Demios, whatever his name was. Deimos? We start collecting spartan helmets and spears moving to the west of the battlefield as we heard the mercenaries engage on our left. Our left side being well protected by our shields, and having heard of the prowess of Kleon’s hired sword, we moved forward.

I heard a voice, and could not help but look. But I could not see clearly. A light shone to our left as the Spartan misthios cried “For the Honour of Sparta”. I could see no more, for the phalanx moved forward, and the battle moved on and then it ended. Kleon met with us, having watched the battle from the sidelines. I saw from our gathering his misthios getting aloe and oil rubbed on his wounds, as well as a hefty serving of unmixed wine. As if he was Macedonian or one of the Barbaros, even though he looked Greek in his style of armour.

The Spartan mercenary was among those we captured. Kleon gloated and went on in his usual style. It was at this moment that I felt Aristophanes might have a point. Or two. The gods might judge Perakles by the theatre Aristophanes produced, but he saw a better light than Kleon ended up in.

After the battle we returned to Athens for a while. Apparently my unit was prominent in our success. That was none of my devising. My men should be honoured for their part, I only followed them, as Kleon had assumed command of all groups. But thanks to this Kleon assigned my unit to be on of his units, wherever he may find us useful.  
This was why we were called to Macedonia and the battle of Amphipolis. We had done a lot of hit and run before we were rounded up for the confrontation. The Spartans had been dogged out of hiding behind the city walls and were gearing up to fight us in the old ways on the plains by the coastline. Kleon was nervous. He had sworn in Athens to face the Spartans spear to shield, and it was clearly a regretful moment when the battle finally drew near. He had a solution worthy of Aristophanes, or even Alkibiades. He outfitted my hoplites with bows. Bows! Cowards and traitors brings bows to meet hoplites. When that was done he could call my unit a fighting force on the battlefield and stood among them as the Spartans advanced upon our position. He was nervous, but at this point smug. Not a good look for the defender of democracy and the Freedom of the Greeks. We should stay strong and proud. Shield to shield and spear to spear, bracing afore the assault, stout-hearted and keen minded. But here we stood. With bows.

As the battle begun Brasidas arrived to the lines late. Kleon had sent out forces to cut him off from the main army. Kleon laughed. Our phalanx crashed into theirs before they were fully ready for us. They were looking for guidance and their command had been delayed. Kleon ordered his mercenary malakas to assault the flank where Brasidas had arrived and grabbed both spear and shield. He stood in the phalanx wall and fought with the hoplites to his left. As the unit broke under the misthios he stayed at the right. He stayed on the right side, protecting the man to his left. Only when Kleon’s dog slew that man did he engage this creature, who fought like Akhilles restored. He did not stand a chance. Not when Kleon’s arrows and our’s kept his phalanx from reforming, and kept reinforcements at a distance.

As this creature, this mercenary barbarian beat Brasidas to death, she stepped out of the mayhem. The misthios of Sparta from Pylos. And she raised the weapon. I shudder as I recall the image. This woman, closing in on as tall as the mightiest of our warriors. Skin tanned and scarred from fighting in the sun, and muscles that would put the Olympian champions to shame. And she held aloft a broken spear. It was a spear i knew.

They had spoken of it. Described its shape and form so clearly. My ancestors had been among the ones who aided Leonidas before his last stand, and he had given his Spartans and his life for them to escape and beat the Persians back. At the Gates of Thermopylae they had seen it. And it allowed them to return home to their families, their homes, their farms. To Athens.

Her voice shook the battlefield as she cried out, the way she had on Pylos.  
“For the Honour of Sparta!”  
It was like she opened a gate to Olympos, the home of the gods itself. It shone all around her bathing her in a golden light. We were all blinded for a brief moment, but as sight returned we were deafened. The golden light broke into a rainbow of colours streaming across her form, and as sudden as the light had broke, it pulled the greatest musicians out of Hades to play her arrival. Strings and bronze horns played in symphony, as the greatest poets, a thousand Sappho sang her arrival. I shielded my eyes and peered. Golden bands adorned her as her dark hair suddenly broke free from her braid, and the whitest of silks covered her glistening bronze skin, and a scarlet cloak appeared upon her shoulders.  
I know what I saw. She must be - must be - a daughter of the gods. She brought the light of Apollo with her, and none but the heroes of legend could claim such a direct ancestry. A demigod. If not a goddess herself. Athena, in the heat of battle. Artemis, facing her prey of large game. And as beautiful as the bright Helena, fair enough to bring an empire to war. She grew a foot at least in length, as a tiara of gold formed upon her head, clearly crowning her one of the divine. Her skin kept her colour, but reflected the myriad of colours, as if oiled by the finest oil of Artemis’ olives themselves.

I likened Deimos to the grand, legendary Akhilles, but as soon as she stood among the battle, a head above the rest, she was a female Herakles come to slay a Hydra. She shone, oh she shone, so very brightly in the sunlight. Even her mercenary counterpart was taken aback. Her seemed disoriented for a second, but regained her composure as one of our spearmen attacked her right side. She grabbed the spear thrust at her, pushed it back until the doru stabbed into hi chest. As his body grew limp she thrust back, skewering the man on the butt of his spear. She then swung the spear in an arcing motion, as a drunkard with a souvlaki, and flung the man off his own spear and onto Deimos. He stepped aside, as quick and nimble as a fox, and lunged for her. Using her momentum she spun around and swung for Deimos center mass with the Athenian’s spear. He parried and the spear broke against his blade. She swung up with the spear of Leonidas but Deimos moved his sword enough do catch it edge to edge in a clinch.

At that moment Kleon called for a volley. I looked around, our hopli tes were still closing in on the pair. They would certainly be caught in the rain of arrows if we loosened at them right then. He called, I shouted to hold. A few had enough sense to string an arrow, but not loose, but a few followed Kleon as he loosed the first one. I could follow it with my eyes across the battlefield. As it started to fall, I saw the both mercenaries engaged in conversation through their blades. Then the arrow hit.

It missed the Spartan but hit Deimos true. Straight into his shoulder and it went deep. It was as if once it broke the skin there was nothing below. Only the feathers of the arrow remained on the outside of his torso, sticking out of his shoulder like a hoplite crest.

The Spartan swore. Kleon swore and ran. He deserted, and I will stand by that statement. The assembly may ostracize me, but I give you my word he abandoned his post.

The goddess rushed towards us, murder in her dark eyes. Murder, beyond the common bloodlust of the battle. Men of the assembly, I ask of you; search your souls for answer. A goddess of battle and death runs for your position. Her footfalls make little sound, but every step shakes the ground around her. A head taller than any soldier I have ever seen. Only the late champion Kallias would measure up to her height. Around her radiated the lights of the gods, making her bronze skin golden, and her dark hair ebony in colour. She swung once and three of my hoplite were flung to the side. Twice and two more were tossed like wet rags to her left.  
I am not a coward. But I am no fool. I would stand on the right of any phalanx, facing any mortal army upon this world, but I would not fight that which cannot die. I will never fight the gods or their children, for to mortal men that will always fail. And there, on the battlefield outside Amphipolis I was facing a goddess enraged.

So I ran, and I will not be shamed. I will not be shamed into silence, dear assembly. I stood before a goddess. A mortal man. A poor fighter. As my unit was plucked apart like wheat before the sickle. So I ran.

I ran and I hid until the dust settled. Soldiers found me, and brought me back to Athens in chains. But I present before you here the tale of why it is I ran, and I want you to again search your heart. Search your mind and your soul, and say you would face the gods without question. Send me into exile if you would, but I know a lost battle when I see it. And I would for a march on Hades and it’s master before I face a hero touch by the gods of the sun.

-  
Statement ends. The assembly voted to not ostracize Sakis of Pirates.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you brain and Tumblr. I've been playing AC:Odyssey and watching She-Ra (2018) lately and, wham, there they were fused and I just need to get it out. And I use the UK spelling rather than the USA-ian, force of anglophilic teachers.  
> What I've mentioned of wine and medicine is all true as far as I can tell. Where history and the game disagree, I've leaned on somewhere in the middle, using history to flesh out the game's depiction of events.


End file.
